Comedian Megan Stalter is known for absurd humor and exaggerated characters, not political activism. But Saturday night, shaken by the killing of Alex Pretti in Minneapolis, she posted something different — a raw, emotional video urging fellow Christians to oppose ICE raids.
“We have to abolish ICE,” she said plainly. “I truly, truly believe that is exactly what Jesus would do.”
The video spread quickly on Instagram, where it was reposted thousands of times. On TikTok, though, it never appeared at all.
According to Stalter, repeated attempts to upload the video failed. Frustrated and convinced she was being censored, she deleted her TikTok account entirely. She wasn’t alone. Across the weekend, other creators reported similar problems after posting — or attempting to post — content critical of ICE, especially amid growing outrage over federal immigration actions in Minneapolis.
The timing raised eyebrows. Just days earlier, TikTok’s U.S. operations had shifted to a new, majority American-owned joint venture following pressure from the Trump administration. The platform insists the upload failures were caused by a power outage at a U.S. data center, calling the issues technical — not political.
Still, trust was already thin.
Even without proof of intentional censorship, experts say perception matters. Social media platforms already struggle with credibility, and TikTok’s new ownership — closely tied to political power — has only intensified skepticism. When creators see videos about ICE delayed, stalled, or invisible, it’s hard not to draw conclusions, even if the systems behind content moderation are opaque and complex.
High-profile users like nurse and author Jen Hamilton noticed the shift immediately. Videos referencing ICE or detained children failed to upload, stalled in review, or disappeared from public view. While she admits she can’t prove censorship, the pattern felt unsettling — especially given the political moment.
Legally, TikTok is within its rights. It’s a private platform, not a public square. But culturally, that distinction offers little comfort to users who feel silenced at a time when stakes feel life-and-death.
The result? An exodus. TikTok uninstalls have surged, and creators are openly discussing alternatives like Substack, Patreon, or coded language to keep posting without triggering moderation systems.
Whether this was a glitch, a coincidence, or something more deliberate may never be fully known. But for many users, the damage is already done. In moments of national tension, silence — intentional or not — speaks loudly.
